THE RASCAL EMPLOYS HIS WITS.
"What shall I do? I can borrow no more of my credit: there's not any
of my acquaintance, man or boy, but I have borrowed more or less of. I
would I knew where to take a good purse."--_The London Prodigal._
Ravenshaw had not the slightest thought that he was being followed,
or had been followed during the day. He had recognised Gregory as
Jerningham's attendant, but he supposed Jerningham had sent the man,
for want of a better instrument, to attempt what Ravenshaw himself had
withdrawn from, or perchance to carry a letter; he thus accounted for
the serving-man's unexpected presence in the garden.
He knew that the knave would not succeed, even if he tried it, in
communicating with Mistress Millicent that night. But doubtless
further efforts would be made soon, and, while he felt she was proof
against any manifest overtures against her honour, he feared some
cunning proposal which might have a false appearance of honesty, and
to which, in her desperate desire to escape from Sir Peregrine, she
might therefore give ear. Here was additional reason why he must work
swiftly to place her out of all danger, either on Jerningham's side
or on Sir Peregrine's, if sufficient reason did not already exist
in the fact that he had to leave London at noon the next day. The
arrangement for his serving Master Jerningham in the country could not
be at all affected by his passage with Jerningham's man in the garden.
Gregory's action there must have been on the inspiration of the moment,
and formed no cause of quarrel with Jerningham; while Jerningham, on
learning that Ravenshaw had again visited the goldsmith's daughter,
would be the more desirous to get him out of London.
Walking out Cheapside, the captain gave final order to the plans he had
been evolving all the afternoon.
He first made search and question in sundry ale-houses and such, about
Pye Corner, for Cutting Tom; whom at last he found in a room filled
with tobacco smoke, where a number of suburb rascals and sightseeing
rustics were at the moment watching a fantastic fellow dance to a
comrade's pipe and tabour. From this innocent amusement, Cutting Tom
was easily drawn into the privacy of a little garden attached to the
place.
"What cheer now?" queried Tom. "Fighting to be done? or coney-catching?
You know I'm your man through sea-water and hell-fire, for a brace of
angels or so."
"I have a small matter afoot to-morrow night," replied Ravenshaw,
gruffly, "wherein I can employ a man like you, and three or four under
him."
"Troth!" said Tom, becoming consequential, "I have some affairs of my
own to-morrow night, and that's the hell of it."
"Then good night to you!"
"Oh, stay, captain!--I had some slight business; but to serve you,
captain--"
"You bottle-ale rogue, think not to cozen me into a higher price.
Affairs of your own!--no more of that. Shall we deal, or no?"
"Oh, I am all yours, captain. For you, I would put myself out any day.
Say on."
"Then you are first to raise four stout fellows whom you can trust as
you do your false dice or your right hand."
"They are near. Trust me for 'em."
"At sunset to-morrow, you and your men, all well armed, and furnished
with lights, be in waiting before the White Horse tavern in Friday
Street,--that is to say, loitering in a manner not to make people
inquisitive. There will come to you anon a young gentleman--with a
young woman. The gentleman is one you have seen. He was with me the
night you turned tail to those counterfeit roaring boys."
"I have seen him with you since,--a lean, clerkly man."
"Ay; and he and the maid will pass the White Horse tavern, as soon
after sunset as may be. Now, be sure you mistake not the man,--it may
be nightfall ere they come."
"Never fear. I am a man of darkness. Mine eyes are an old tom-cat's."
"Without stopping them, you and your men will close around the couple
as a guard, and accompany where the gentleman shall direct. If any
pursue, or try to molest them, you are to defend, and help their
flight, at all risks. But they are not like to be sought for till they
are out of London. They will take to the water at Queenhithe, and
you five with them, all in the same boat. And so down the river with
the tide, how many miles I know not exactly, till you land, upon the
Kentish side. The gentleman will give orders where."
"This should be worth ten pound, at the least, so far," said Cutting
Tom, musingly, as if to himself.
"You will not get ten pounds at the most, and yet you will go farther,"
replied Ravenshaw, curtly. "After you are put ashore, will come your
chief service, which is to protect my gentleman and maid to their
destination inland. How far this journey will be, I am not sure, but
'twill be some walking, through woods and by lonely ways, and by night;
and you are to guard them against the dangers and fears of the way,
that is all. When they come to the place they are bound for, they will
dismiss you, and you may fare home to London as you choose."
"Why, beshrew my body! 'tis an all-night business, then."
"It should be over something after midnight, if begun early and well
sped; I count not the time of your return to London. And look you: I am
not to be named in the affair, that is of the first import. If the lady
knew--well, in short, I am not to be named. The lady is not to know of
my hand in it; if she did all would go wrong, and I should make you
sorry."
"I will remember. This should be worth, now, fifteen pound, at the
smallest. I shall have to pay the men--"
"You can pay them a pound apiece, and have two pounds for yourself.
That will be six pounds."
"Oh, jest not, I pray you! Ten pound and there's an end on't."
After some discussion, they met each other at eight pounds. Then arose
another question.
"Since you are not to appear in the affair," said Cutting Tom, "and I
know not the other gentleman save by sight, it behooves that you pay
before we set forth."
"Half ere you set forth," conceded the captain, knowing his man, "half
when the work is done."
"Then will the gentleman pay me the second half when we are at his
destination?"
"No. He will have no money with him. I would not put you in temptation
upon the journey, or afterward. Though I shall not appear in the
matter, I shall pay." He thought for a moment. It was safest that
Cutting Tom should know him alone as master, deal with him alone where
gold was to be handled, and yet that he should not pay the first
money till the last possible moment before leaving London. Finally he
said: "For the first four pounds, thus: to-morrow, at fifteen minutes
before noon, no later, be at the hither end of London Bridge; I will
meet you there and pay. For the other four pounds, thus: when the
journey is finished, pass the rest of the night at the gentleman's
destination,--he shall find you room in some stable-loft, or such,--and
there I will come the next day with the gold, for I shall be in that
neighbourhood."
Cutting Tom grumbled a little; but Ravenshaw, after applying to him a
few terms designed to make him think no better of himself, threatened
to employ another man, and so brought him to agreement. The details
having been repeated for the sake of accuracy, the captain left the
place, and Tom returned to his amusements.
Ravenshaw's concern now was to raise the promised eight pounds and
such other money as would be required in the exploit. He must needs
bestir himself. At this late hour there was not time for any elaborate
enterprise. Some bold, shrewd stroke must serve him. But might he
expect to perform such a wonder now, when he had not been able to
perform one, even at the pressure of dire want, during the past weeks?
Yes; for he had the stimulus of a new motive; and the very shortness of
the time at his disposal would put an edge to his wit, and sharpen his
sight to opportunities to which he would commonly be blind.
The manifest thing to do first was to stake his few shillings at cards
or dice. He entered the nearest dice-house; but here he was well known
and no player would engage with him. He went into another place, where
most of the gamesters were men from the country, whom a few hardened
rooks of the town were fleecing. Here the captain got to work with
the bones; but, as the dice were true, he soon, to his consternation,
lost his last sixpence. In a desperate desire of getting some silver
back in order to try for better luck elsewhere, he raised a howl of
having been cheated with loaded dice, and proceeded to roar terror into
his opponent. But the latter, frightened out of his wits, took bodily
flight, and, though Ravenshaw pursued him out of the house, succeeded
in losing himself in the darkness of Snow Hill.
What was the captain now to do? For a moment he thought of taking his
stand on Holborn bridge, and crying "Deliver!" to the first belated
person who might be supposed to carry a fat purse. But there would be
danger in that course, danger to his purpose, and he dared not risk
that purpose as he would risk his own neck. He bethought himself with
bitterness that there was not a human being in London, or in the world,
who would lend him half the needed sum, to save his soul. Nerved by the
reflection, he strode forward and swaggered into a tavern on the north
side of Holborn, the door of which had just opened to let out three
hilarious inns-of-court men who came forth singing:
"For three merry men, and three merry men,
And three merry men we be."
He looked in at each open chamber door, and listened at each closed
one. Neither eating, nor drinking, nor smoking, nor the music of
begging fiddlers, had any attraction for him this time. But at last he
came to a large upper room wherein money was passing, for he could hear
the rattle of dice and the soft chink of gold amidst the exclamations
of men, the voices of women, and the scraping of a couple of violins.
Without knocking, he boldly flung open the door, and entered.
Candles were plentiful in the room, which was hung with painted cloth.
On a long table were the remains of a supper; at one end of this table
the cloth had been turned back, and three gentlemen were throwing
dice upon the bare oak. At the other part of the table sat two women,
with painted cheeks and gorgeous gowns, and a fourth gentleman. Upon
the window-seat were two vagabond-looking fellows a-fiddling. The
women were dividing their attention between the gamesters and a lean
greyhound, for which they would toss occasionally a bit of food into
the air. Before each of the women there was a little pile of gold, to
which her particular gamester would add or resort, as he won or lost.
All this the captain took in with sharp eyes ere any one did him the
honour to challenge his entrance with a look.
"Oh, your pardon!" quoth he, when at last these people showed a kind of
careless, insolent surprise at his presence. "I thought to find friends
here; I have mistaken the room." But instead of withdrawing he stepped
forward, his glance playing between the dice and the gold.
"Oh, Jesu!" said one of the women, a great lazy blonde, with splendid
eyes, and a slow voice; "'tis that swaggering filthy rascal Ravenshaw,
with his beard cut off."
"'Tis Samson shorn of his strength, then!" said the other woman, a
little, Spanish-looking, brown beauty, who spoke in quick, shrill
tones. She was dressed in brown velvet and scarlet satin. One of her
hands lay in the ardent clasp of a large gentleman, who, with his own
free hand, held the dice-box. He was handsome and simple-looking, and
he now broke into loud laughter at her jest.
"'Twould have needed a handsomer Delilah than any here, to do the
shearing," said the captain, rudely. Having been a hater of women, he
had been wont to treat this kind with caustic raillery.
The large gallant roared at this, and said, "Faith, ladies, you brought
that on yourselves!" But one of the other two gamesters, a lean,
fox-faced, eager-looking little man, he whose pile of winnings lay
before the indolent blonde, frowned with resentment on her behalf.
First his frown was directed at Ravenshaw; but, deeming it prudent to
aim it elsewhere, he turned it upon the large gentleman, saying:
"Your mirth is easily stirred, Master Burney."
The brunette shot a look of anger at the speaker for the offensive
tone he used toward her gallant. The blonde noticed this, and took the
little gentleman's hand in hers, to show where her allegiance lay; and
then she drawled out, with a motion which might have come to a shrug of
horror had she not been too lazy to finish it:
"Oh, God! I pity Delilah, the poor woman, if her Samson was such a
bottle-ale rogue as this beast!"
Master Burney laughed at this sally, and somewhat reinstated himself in
the favour of the little gallant.
Ravenshaw bowed low. "I salute your most keen, subtle, elegant, biting
wit, Lady Greensleeves! It cuts; oh, it cuts!"
"'Lady Greensleeves!' Ho, ho, ho!" bawled Master Burney, and forthwith
essayed to sing, with a tunelessness the worse for the opposition of
the fiddlers, some lines of the familiar ballad:
"Greensleeves was all my joy,
Greensleeves was my delight;
Greensleeves was my heart of gold,
And who but Lady Greensleeves?"
The point of the nickname lay in the fact that the pink silk gown which
encased the large, shapely figure of the lady--a gown so cut as to
reveal an ample surface of bust--was fitted with sleeves of light green.
"Christ! what caterwauling!" quoth Lady Greensleeves, with a smile, not
ill-naturedly.
"'Tis not as bad as his laughing, at worst," said her gallant.
"What is amiss with his laughing?" spoke up the brunette, pressing
Master Burney's hand the more tightly.
"Oh," replied the little gallant, "I find no fault that he laughs; but
'tis the manner of his laugh. If he but laughed like a Christian, I
should not mind. But he laughs like a--like a--"
"Like a what?" persisted the brunette, defiantly.
"Like a pig," said Lady Greensleeves, placidly.
The brunette's eyes flashed at the fair woman, but the latter's
amiable, half-smiling look disarmed wrath, or seemed to put it in
the wrong, and so for a moment nobody spoke. Meanwhile Ravenshaw had
made these swift deductions: Here was one gentleman prone to laugh at
anything; there was another gentleman quick to take offence at that
laughter if it was directed against his mistress; neither gentleman was
afraid of the other, but both were afraid of Ravenshaw, whose name gave
him a fine isolation, making it as hard for him to find adversaries in
fight as in gaming; and each gentleman was adored by his lady. In a
flash, the captain saw what might be made out of the situation.
"How is it you knew who I was, Lady Greensleeves?" he asked. "I think,
if I had ever met you, I should have remembered you."
"Oh, lord! I would not for a thousand pound rub against all the scurvy
stuff that's in your memory! I was in Paris Garden the day you killed
the bear that got loose among the people, and that is how I learned
who you were. And oft since then I have seen you hanging about tavern
doors, as I have gone about the town in my coach. I think I have seen
you at prison windows, hanging down a box for pennies, but I'm not
sure."
This time Master Burney's laugh was upon the captain, and all joined in
it.
"No doubt," said Ravenshaw; "and I think you once put a penny in the
box, but when I drew it up I found it was a bad one."
"Troth, then," she said, "here's a good coin to make up for it." And
she took up the smallest piece of gold from the pile in front of her,
and threw it toward him. "Take it, and buy stale prunes to keep up your
stale valour!"
"Nay," he retorted, throwing it back; "keep it, and buy stale paint to
keep up your stale beauty!"
Master Burney's shout of mirth was cut short by a curse, and a slap in
the face, both from Lady Greensleeves's lover, who had leaped to his
feet and was the picture of fury. The struck man, with a loud roar of
anger, sprang up instantly; and both had their rapiers in hand in a
moment.
The two other gentlemen and the brunette rushed in to keep the angry
gallants asunder; Lady Greensleeves sat like one helpless, and began to
scream like a frightened child; the fiddlers broke off their tune of
a sudden; the hound fled to the empty fireplace, and barked. The two
opponents struggled fiercely to shake off the would-be peacemakers, and
were for killing each other straightway.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," shouted Ravenshaw above the tumult; "not before
ladies! not indoors! There be the fields behind the tavern, and a good
moonlight."
With this, he caught the brunette by the wrists, and drew her from the
fray. Holding her with his left arm, he pushed Master Burney's enemy
violently toward the door.
"To the fields, then!" cried the little gentleman. "To the fields an he
dare follow!"
Master Burney's reply was drowned by the cries of the ladies, as he
dashed after the other. The two neutral gentlemen, yielding to the
trend of the incident, accompanied the angry ones forth. The captain,
instead of following, slammed the door after them, released the
brunette, and stood with his back to the closed door to stop any one
else from leaving the room. The brunette, shrieking threats, tried
again and again to pass him, but he pushed her back each time until she
sank exhausted on a chair by the table; and all the while poor Lady
Greensleeves wailed as if her heart would break.
"'Tis not for ladies to interfere in these matters," said Ravenshaw,
when he could make himself heard. "A blow has been struck, and men of
honour have but one course. Their friends will see all fitly done.
Despair not, mistress: your gallant has great vantage in size and
strength."
"Then you think he will win?" cried the brunette. "Heaven be praised!"
"Oh, God! oh, God!" moaned Lady Greensleeves. "Then my dear servant is
a dead man. Woe's me! woe's me! I'll turn nun; nay, I'll take poison,
that I will!"
"Why, madam," said Ravenshaw, "your gentleman will acquit himself well,
be sure of it. He is so quick; and the other's bulk is in your man's
favour."
It was now the brown beauty's turn to be dismayed.
"Oh, thank heaven!" cried Lady Greensleeves, smiling gratefully through
her tears. "Yes, indeed, he is quick; he will give that big Burney a
dozen thrusts ere the great fellow can move."
At this the dark woman started up for another struggle with Ravenshaw,
but he stayed her with the words:
"Nay, the small gentleman is too light to thrust hard. Think of Master
Burney's weight; when he does touch, 'twill go home, no doubt of that."
All this time the captain was on tenter-hooks lest the fight had really
begun; a moment's loss of time would be fatal to his purpose; he must
bring matters to a point.
"In very truth," he said, "as a man acquainted with these things, if I
were to wager which of the two is like to be killed--"
"Which?" cried the women together, as he paused.
"Both!"
Even Greensleeves sprang up this time, and Ravenshaw found himself
confronted by two desperate, sobbing creatures.
"Back, ladies!" he shouted, quickly. "I will stop their fighting!"
They stood still, regarding him with wondering inquiry.
"If you will stay in this room," he continued.
"We will not stir a step," cried Lady Greensleeves. "Make haste, for
God's sake!"
"And if you will give me a handful of those yellow boys yonder," he
added.
With a cry of joy, Greensleeves swept up a handful of the two little
piles of gold, and held it out to him.
"Stay," said the brown lady, closing her palm over the gold in the
other's hand. "He shall have it--when he brings the two gentlemen back
to us, friends and unscathed."
"That's fair," said Ravenshaw; "so that you give it to me privately,
ere they take note."
"Yes, yes!" panted the brunette; and "God's name, haste!" cried
Greensleeves; and the captain, without another word, dashed out of the
room, and down the stairs.
He ran through the garden behind the tavern, and so by a gate, which
the gentlemen had left open, to the fields, which stretched northward
to Clerkenwell and Islington. He descried the four gallants near at
hand, where they had chosen a clean, level piece of turf. Fortunately,
the many noises in the tavern, noises of music, laughter, gaming, and
singing, had kept attention from being drawn to the tumult of this
affair, and so no one had followed the four gentlemen out. The two
who had tried to make peace had now fallen naturally into the place
of seconds, and were finishing the preliminaries of the fight, while
the adversaries stood with their doublets off, waiting for the time to
begin. Just as their weapons met, with a musical ring of steel, the
captain dashed in and struck up the rapiers with his own.
"Gentlemen, I am defrauded here," he said, as the combatants stood back
in surprise. "I was the first to offend, in the house yonder, and the
first to be offended. 'Tis my right to fight one of you first--I care
not which--and, by this hand, you shall not proceed till my quarrel is
settled!"
"Oh, pish, man!" said the little gallant; "we have no quarrel with you.
Our fight is begun; I pray, stand aside, and let us have it out."
"Upon one condition, then," said Ravenshaw.
The two gallants raised their points, to rush at each other.
"That the survivor shall fight me afterward," he finished.
The two gallants lowered their points, and hesitated.
"Troth, I have taken no offence of you, sir," said Master Burney; "and
given none, I think."
"But your ladies yonder gave me offence; and to whom shall I look for
reparation, if not to you two?"
"Faith," said the small gallant, "a man who undertook to give
reparation for every foolish word a woman spoke, would have no time to
eat, drink, or sleep."
"I see how it is," said Ravenshaw, with a shrug. "I may not hope for
satisfaction unless I force you to self-defence; and that would be
murder. But, by the foot of a soldier, if I must go without reparation,
I'll not be the only one! If I forego, so must you both. How like you
that, Master Burney?"
"How can I? He struck me a blow."
"Well, no doubt, if I pray him, he will withdraw the blow. Will you
not, sir?"
"I do not like to," answered the little man; "but if he will withdraw
his laughter--"
"Why, forsooth, a man of known courage may withdraw anything, and no
harm to his reputation," said the captain. "To prove it I will withdraw
all offence I have given, and will take it that you two, on behalf of
the ladies, withdraw all offence they have done me. Saviolo himself, I
swear, could not adjust a quarrel more honourably. What say you, shall
we go back now in peace and friendship to bring joy to the hearts of
the ladies who are dying of fear? Come, gentlemen, my sword is the
first to be put up, look you."
Somewhat sheepishly, the adversaries followed his example, to the
amusement of the seconds, who would doubtless have acted with similar
prudence had they been exposed to the risk of having to fight Captain
Ravenshaw. The captain then took Master Burney and the little gentleman
each by an arm, and started for the tavern, followed by the other two.
The song of the three inns-of-court men returned to his mind, and he
and the two fighters marched back to the ladies, singing at the top of
their voices:
"For three merry men, and three merry men,
And three merry men we be."
Lady Greensleeves folded the little gentleman in her arms till he
grimaced with discomfort; the brown beauty leaped up and clung around
Master Burney's neck; but, as she did so, she dangled behind his back a
purse, in the face of Captain Ravenshaw, to whose hand she relinquished
it a moment later. The captain stepped out into the passage, made sure
that the purse really contained a handful of gold, and then fled down
the stairs ere any but the brunette knew he was gone.
The fiddlers, who had waited through all the suspense of the women,
now struck up a merry love tune, and Master Burney bawled for a drawer
to bring some more wine, declaring he must drink the health of Captain
Ravenshaw; but the captain was hastening to his lodging in Smithfield,
grinning to himself, and fingering the heavy round pieces in the purse.
[Illustration: "ONE HAND GESTICULATING, WHILE THE OTHER HELD HIS
NEW-WRITTEN MANUSCRIPT."]